From the East's guarded station, a dragon dusks,
Poring over the bear's steps midst vines and husks,
Learning of strife and what sanctions awaken,
Prepares for fight, the peace of the isle forsaken.
On an isle afar, the leader takes her stance,
Despite the dragon's roar and its fiery glance,
Tightening knots with the eagle's lofty keep,
At the dawn's edge, where the sea’s waters sleep.
Rebels, like hares dart across Aleppo's plain,
Claiming zones as rain does thirst-quench its domain,
Damascus weeps, a snail with home lost,
In the whirl of war, a grievous cost.
